


Future Imperfect

by LightofEvolution



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, soulmates?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23871040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/pseuds/LightofEvolution
Summary: Weird things can happen in the Department of Mysteries. And Hermione and her partner are about to find out how weird exactly. Or maybe not weird - but foreshadowing?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 27
Kudos: 165
Collections: DFW Birthday GOGO Fest 2020





	Future Imperfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pureblood_Muggle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pureblood_Muggle/gifts).



> This piece is part of the DFW Birthday GOGO, and I had a lot of fun writing it. 
> 
> niffizzle helped me pushing through this in this not quite easy time and beta'ed the hell out of it - thank you so much!
> 
> Dear Pureblood_Muggle - I hope I could fulfill the prompts to your liking (at least two o f them lol). Fluff and humour are my go-to tags as well. Thank you for giving me the chance to write this.

“The doe eyes she was making at him!” 

“And the waltz they did! In what universe is that called dancing?” Draco drawled. The seriousness in his face caused Hermione to giggle. 

Thankfully, they were alone in the Ministry’s lift on their way to the Department of Mysteries. Hermione Granger wasn’t one to giggle, normally, but the wizard commuting with her was anything but normal.

“But the worst thing about the entire evening—“

“—was the speech!” Draco finished.

“Yes! Yes, exactly!” Hermione couldn’t agree more.

“He’s my soulmate!” Draco imitated Pansy with a high pitched voice.

Hermione laughed at the accuracy, stepping out of the lift.

“I can’t believe they made such an affair out of the wedding. I always imagined Harry marrying in a small ceremony with only a dozen guests.”

“He loves Pansy, and she’s wanted a cliché wedding like that since we were children.” 

Hermione nodded, knowing how head over heels Harry and Pansy were. “I’m just thankful that they both agreed on excluding the press.”

“Oh, come on, the red wine you snorted out of your nose on your powder blue dress would’ve made a lovely picture!” Draco teased.

“It was your fault! You just  _ had _ to tell me your Patronus is a ferret when I was taking a sip, didn’t you?” She hit him playfully and ushered him further into the Department, looking forward to starting the work day.

Today, she was especially eager — it was the first day working with Draco. The Department of Mysteries had its employees working on individual projects, but once they finished them, they were partnered up and got assigned for two weeks in what they called ‘Treasure and Trash,’ which were essentially weird stuff that wasn’t really dangerous but suspicious enough to be treated with care.

Their friends, of course, didn’t know they worked in the same department, but they were vaguely aware of Draco and Hermione crossing paths here and there with her “working in Research and Development“ to anyone asking and him in “Potions“: two departments their friends didn’t even stumble into accidentally. 

“So what do we have here?” Draco asked then, genuinely curious. He had become an Unspeakable not only because that allowed him to work on some of the more… magically ambiguous artifacts right under the Ministry’s supervision, but also because here, in the Department of Mysteries, every day was an intellectual challenge. 

Hermione smiled at him, being familiar with his thirst for knowledge by now. Even with this being the first time actually collaborating, they had shared a workspace several times over the past years. 

“Today, Mister Malfoy, we have what I assume is a Weasley Special.” 

Draco groaned as he spotted the object that now was directed to the examination table in a Security Bubble by her wand. Slipping on his protective gloves, he stated, “A Weasley Special? That doesn’t bode well. The last time I handled one of their products, I ended up quacking like a duck for two days.” 

“And I remember that time very fondly.” She laughed, and they both continued setting up the workspace. 

For a few minutes, they didn’t say a word. In comfortable silence, the two of them put on their standard, spell-repelling gear and filled out the paperwork. Safety protocols were essential in their department, even if neither Hermione nor Draco suspected that anything leaving WWW would be truly harmful. 

“So, since the topic came up at the wedding… you really don’t believe in soulmates?” 

Hermione very nearly let her wand drop upon hearing Draco’s words. “Well, that’s a random question. Do you?” 

“I asked first.” 

Hermione hesitated, thinking. “No. A soulmate is a concept that indicates you can’t choose who you spend your life with. That a higher power decides — magic, God, fate…” 

“But that’s not who you are. You want to be in control of your own fate,” he said, understanding. And understand, he did. Too long, he had been struggling to be the master of his own fate, caught in his parents’ beliefs. “I get what you are saying. But still, there’s some romance in it, isn’t there? To have a designated person you belong with?” he reasoned, and Hermione’s smile turned serene. 

“I hadn’t pegged you as a romantic, but yes. There certainly is something about this concept. But for Muggle-borns like me, this probably includes either a frog to kiss or a kingdom to be saved.” She winked at him. 

“Or a dragon to be tamed?” Draco mumbled, mostly to himself and not even exactly knowing why. 

“Can we start?” he voiced aloud. 

“Yes. Do you want to guess what brought this to us?” 

“Knowing the Weasley twins, they said something along the lines of, ‘It’s just an update to the Puking Pastilles!’ to the Auror who was alarmed enough to investigate. No one really wanted to try it, though it’s apparent that this is not a Puking Pastil.” He glanced at the cubic object still surrounded by the bubble. “The rookie Auror on this case brought it before Robards, the Head Auror pushed it forward to the Department of Mysteries, and our lovely boss saw the label ‘WWW’ and immediately ensconced the thing with the protection bubble before categorizing it as TNT.” 

Hermione laughed, both because Draco was totally right and also because she one day would tell him that what he believed to be a clever abbreviation of Trash and Treasure was actually anything but. 

They stepped towards the table simultaneously. Draco raised his wand, carefully dissolving the Bubble. Hermione mirrored his movements and levitated the box to the table. Then, they started to run the standard spells over the object.

They hadn’t even reached the third set of spells when white smoke began to leave the object.

“What did you do?” Draco asked. The smoke turned blue. 

Hermione answered, confused, “I didn’t do anything! See? The smoke is turning pink! What—”

There wasn’t a sound  _ per se _ following her words, more like an anti-sound. A void, swallowing all the noises present, the reality swirling with it. For Hermione and Draco, it felt like falling. 

Suddenly, they found themselves in another room — and another time? It felt strangely like falling into a Pensieve, only that this was definitely not a memory. 

“What is this?“ Draco asked, bewildered. He checked his limbs, moving his fingers. They all seemed to be intact, though a bit translucent. 

“A wedding, apparently, and a lavish one at that.“ Hermione pointed out the gold and silver decorations and the tableware, expensive and opulent. The sunflowers stood in stark but lovely contrast to that.

The people present were strangely hazy, their faces not really visible to them. The view through the floor-length windows that took up the entire side of the room, however, was sharp and clear. 

“Are we at the Manor? Hard to tell with all the snow,“ she remarked. 

Draco groaned. “Yes, this is the grand ballroom, and this is indeed the Manor. At winter solstice, probably. I suspect what we see here is a traditionally timed Malfoy wedding —  _ my _ wedding.“ 

“ _ Our _ wedding,“ Hermione corrected drily. For now, just becoming visible among the hazy mass of people, a bride and groom entered the room. There was no doubt however as to who the couple was. 

A whistle and a “Wow,“ escaped Draco. 

Hermione slapped his harm. “Malfoy!“ 

“What? You are looking magnificent!“ 

“It’s because I’m all dressed up,“ Hermione reasoned. The long white gown was simple, made from a fine, liquid looking fabric. Over its entirety, small diamonds were sewn into it, making it look like sparkling stars. “As if I’d ever pick such a classic cut and style,” she snorted. 

“It’s not the dress. It’s your smile,“ Draco stated dreamily. 

Next to him, Hermione blushed. “Flattery will get you nowhere.“ 

“As it seems, it does.“ He smirked, and her blush deepened.

Though, Hermione had to admit that she  _ was _ looking radiant, but that it all had to do with the wizard next to her. Who, Merlin be damned, looked good enough to eat with his black suit and only a hint of robes draped around his shoulders. His grey eyes were fixed on her, and he was positively glowing. 

The smile on both of their lips only intensified when Draco started speaking. “Dear family and friends, after our very private ceremony—“ 

“The bonding takes place with only a handful of witnesses to keep the family rites and magic a secret,“ the real Draco next to the real Hermione whispered into her ear, making her shiver involuntary. 

Fantasy Draco continued his speech. “If twenty years ago, when we started at Hogwarts, anyone had told me that Hermione Granger is my soulmate, I would’ve thrown a petulant fit.“ 

“Merlin, that is only three years away from now!“ Hermione remarked before her fantasy self now spoke. 

“If, in third year, anyone had told me that Draco Malfoy is my soulmate, I would’ve slapped the person —  _ and _ him.“ 

Laughter was heard. 

“If the day I was branded with the Mark on the cusp of war anyone had told me that this woman is my soulmate, I would’ve been silent, for I believed myself undeserving of love.“ 

Sniffles were heard, and Hermione blinked away tears that threatened to spill. 

“If, five years ago, when we both started working in the different Departments of the Ministry, anyone had told me that Draco is my soulmate, I would’ve laughed and blamed it on the potion fumes in his lab, for Draco had just become my friend.“ 

“On the summer solstice, when I got down on one knee like an idiot and begged this witch to become my wife, had anyone told me then that Hermione is my soulmate, I would’ve thrown some of the mud I’ve been kneeling in somewhere in the middle of the Scottish Highlands at them.“ 

“Even today, when I bound myself to Draco and he himself to me, I wouldn’t say we’re soulmates,“— some people gasped — “for we don’t believe in soulmates. But he, of this I am totally certain, is the person I want to have by my side for the rest of my life.“ 

“The person I wake up next to,“ Draco added. 

“The person that fathers my children.“ 

“And the person I fall asleep to every evening,“ Draco finished.    
  


“Oi! Hermione snores when she’s tipsy!“ yelled Ron, bringing some comic relief.

“Remind me to bring my wand,“ Real Hermione muttered darkly.

Draco chuckled, but at the same time, he was surprised by how very much Hermione didn’t complain about the fact that the object was envisioning the two of them to end up together. 

“You see the tiara on your head?” he remarked instead, pointing at the top of fantasy Hermione’s braided hair. She nodded, and he continued explaining, “That’s the tiara every Malfoy bride has worn in the past five hundred years; it is safely tucked away in a special vault at Gringotts currently, with only the Head of the family being in the possession of the key.” 

“So either we pulled Lucius on our side eventually or someone had the grace to murder him and made you Head of the House?” 

Draco smirked and touched her elbow to direct her towards a tuft of platinum blond among the faceless mass of wedding guests. “Hopefully, it’s the former. I don’t see myself responsible for the family business for another decade or two. After all, I very well can imagine myself as a stay-at-home dad for a bit while my wife climbs the ranks.” 

Draco nodded towards the scene now taking its course. The Fantasy or perhaps Future Hermione raised her glass of champagne at a toast, only to have it secretly exchanged for bubblejuice by a house elf waiter. Then, the radiant witch subconsciously placed her hand on her lower abdomen, smiling at her new husband, and the real Hermione gasped. 

“Really? How could we possibly forget the spell?” 

“I am a good lover, Granger. Maybe I made you forget contraception for all that it’s worth,” Draco hypothesised, but Hermione only threw back, “Maybe I exhausted you too much that you could remind me.” 

With a feeling that was as weird as the initial one, Draco and Hermione were catapulted back to their lab without any warning. Apparently, they had seen enough. 

What followed was an awkward silence in which the two of them eyed each other warily, the cubic box back to emitting white smoke between them.

“So-”   
  


“We-” they started at the same time, a nervous laugh following.

“You first,” permitted Draco.

“We need to talk about what we saw.”

“Do we?” 

“Yes! I mean, we saw the two of us getting wed?” Hermione’s rapid gesturing with her hands indicated at least a tad of aggravation.

Draco, a bit confused, replied, “Well, who knows what this thing is supposed to be doing? Maybe it just makes up a romantic scenery for two people who touch it with their wands? Whoever touches it?”

“No, this object digs deeper. The Manor, the winter solstice, the tiara…” she trailed off. “That’s all very specific. It draws from your memory.”

“Solely my memory?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows. “The sunflowers as part of the decoration? And the proposal in the Scottish Highlands? That wasn’t drawn from  _ my _ mind.”

“Sunflowers are… were…” She smiled softly but with a lot of melancholy.

“Your mother’s favourite, I know.” Draco knew because he listened when she told him things. After a short pause, he dared stating, “Perhaps it’s a projection?”

She blushed and lowered her gaze. “Not a projection, but a… possibility?”

Giving himself a push, he stepped around the examination table and approached her. Once there, he lifted her chin carefully.

“I quite like this… possibility.”

Surprised, Hermione peeked up at him from behind her lashes. 

“Really?”

It was his turn to blush now when he admitted, “Really.”

“Maybe we should talk about these possibilities over dinner?” she suggested, having found her confidence again. 

He laughed. “I would like that.” Still smiling, he let her go. 

Just when he wanted to pick up their work and put the object safely away, he was stopped by Hermione’s fingers grabbing his. 

“Just do me a favour.”

Draco nodded.

“Teach me a proper waltz before we marry, yes? I don’t want to look like an idiot at my own wedding.”

He gave her hand a short but assuring squeeze. “Don’t worry. I will.” 

In fact, four years later, they danced a perfect waltz at their wedding. 

And their firstborn, Scorpius, was born only exactly a year after that — two months before Harry and Pansy’s daughter. 

Every ‘possibility anniversary,’ Hermione and Draco sent an expensive gift basket to WWW without ever letting them know the reason. 

  
  
  



End file.
